Friday, 22 November 2013

wild skyfalling night
tail of first big storm front of
the season slashing through last loose leaf debris hurried along"as
before an enchanter fleeing" branches clattering against metaltrash
cans banging aroundall that's not securely fastened caught up and
blowing -- apprehensive electricity in the streets, guy wobbling little progress on toppling
bike against the gale sidewalk woman head down moving slowly uphill
into northeast wind grabbing at swirling blown endsof long
diaphanous pastel scarf Ninth and Bancroft, West Berkeley insecure
householder half dressed emerges from behind barred gatelooks up into
dark skyone arm bent over head as if to shield, crouching --

14 comments:

I'm feeling it and thinking it. The words (it's nice to see the lower case title and description rescuing "skyfalling" from bad James Bond movie memory) and images put you in several storm geographies. I love all the photos, but the efo one really gets to me. Storms around here, which are on the way, I'm sure, are more and more treacherous and difficult to navigate. That's something that has changed as I got older and moved away from the big city. Curtis

We've been riding out all the weather the North Pacific has thrown this way over the past half century or so, and naturally that includes a deal of wind. In '68-'78 we lived out above Duxbury Reef, where the microclimate resembled that of the Point Reyes peninsula, the next promontory just up the coast, pictured in three of the last four photos here. There were some impressive storms. For example, this one in 1969:

The weather over here is relatively tame in comparison, still there are "wind channels" created by the configuration of coastal hills and Bay, and for the past thirty years we have inhabited one of those. In short, then, this time of year, big winds are pretty common.

But this particular event, which is now thankfully easing up a bit, had a special quality to it, perhaps having to do with an atmospheric pressure drop, or some other sort of pressure drop. In any case, having hobbled out into it, I quickly came to rue my mistake, but too late to keep from joining those whose debilities called for extreme caution in avoiding getting blown away.

We were just woken up by the dinghy, nearly broken free, banging against the back of the boat. I have to admint though that I kind of love the urgency of these windy nights. Standing out on the heaving dock, pulling ropes and tying lines under the clear dark sky, is kind of wonderfully alive. Even if Brian did step on my toe.

Anyway, now I'm awake, and it's nice to feel solidarity with Berkeley and its denizens. The ducks too.

I so love your posts, and their uncanny photos. While in Turkey for 2 weeks recently as well... These most poignant since our daughter and family live in Point Reyes, and have experienced inclement weather...

Here's a poem I found on my Indices file under "storm," taking you up on your invitation to append poems whenever... with all due respect.

STORM

Gorky yelled, “Flood, flood!”Cork saw the fire coming and ran.The cold black mountain rose on its heels.They thought it’d walk away.Raindrops big as ton weights.Everywhere the sky was upside-down.Dop-dop held on, but was scared witless.Hak drew pictures on a napkin.Kanji sang at the top of her lungs.The cats crouched so low they became rugs.I’ve seen earth open up.I’ve seen earth close up.But raindrops coming down like houses.Aw, nothing could stand up.The horse blew up like a balloon.A black blimp with legs.Floated through the drops.Cork thought the fire was coming and ran.Everyone sat with shut eyes.“I can’t do it alone,” they yelled.A rat came out, a pig and a fox.“Don‘t shoot us,” they cried, but the others only wept.Lightning cracked and the women had babies.The sky rolled its iron roller across its iron floor.Light sang a high note, then fell silent.Green became black. Red became black.Only brown and cobalt blue remained.We sang in five parts.“The gate is stronger than a hair.The hair is stronger than an atom.The atom is God’s anger.The atom is God’s Grace.”Cork swooned in Kanji’s arms.Gorky and Dop-dop held on.The cats melted into the earth, crying.Hak sang the same note until he died.Kanji went over the edge not laughing.Londoon sang another note at the flash of light.Happy is he who was never born.The atom is God’s anger.The atom is God’s grace.

Skyfalling, sky fell. Google likes to celebrate certain anniversaries on its home page. Today, the 50th anniversary of JFK's great fall, Google is celebrating the 50th anniversary of "Dr. Who", the British sci fi series. It's been quite a storm these fifty years since. Touching to be distracted by Dr. Who weathering it.

I'm definitely more duck than dog (a sea dog would probably have more sense than to wear flip flops out on the heaving docks at three in the morning).

And speaking of boats, ours was named (by the previous owner) after this one. Ours doesn't have the sauna, library, or any of the fancy equipment, but I do fantasize about adding an observation bubble.

Great photos of Point Reyes here, and Prince Edward Island too for that matter -- "Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! Rage, blow!" And blow it did here last night too (still going on, but diminished now), this one from the northeast like never before, branches down, wires down, power out (for a while, somehow came on again), Terrace closed this morning -- wind howling down off the ridge all night, slamming into the house, rattling windows and doors and nerves ("crouching"). . .

Thanks everyone for helping us batten down the hatches so that the bats won't escape the belfry.

And Daniel, many thanks for that tremendous storm epic.

Steve's report from the damage zone reminds that I had a Bolinas wind and rain and can't fix the roof poem, once upon a time, in which the sentiments expressed by the struggling amateur roofer approximately echoed "Happy is he who was never born".

Aye, Tom, your words struck me on a personal level, as a little over twenty years ago I lived just two blocks from Ninth and Bancroft, and my slightly neurotic ex still lives there, in the same house behind a barred gate. So, when you wrote, "insecure householder half dressed, emerges from behind barred gate", I just had to chuckle...